


Beautiful Things

by eiseedoesit



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 07:54:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiseedoesit/pseuds/eiseedoesit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knockout tortures Silas. Silas returns the favor. As the days pass, sanity slips away. Post 'Human Factor'. Warnings inside</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful Things

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Spoilers for the "Human Factor" episode. Torture. Adult language. Breakdown/Knockout slash. Knockout going psycho. Mentions of prostitution, non-con. Angst, lots and lots of it!

Day 1:

Disgusting. That was all Knockout could conclude from the first day of dissection. The human screamed. Oh how he screamed, and begged, and cried. It seemed impossible that the wrecked creature was once formidable and threatening in the eyes of humans. Now he was nothing more than a ruined experiment being delicately, slowly, ripped apart. And it was just beginning.

"Not even Shockwave would have tolerated this abomination," Knockout sneered as he peeled back the armor of the fallen comrade. Beneath was an array of wires, the circuitry weaving through each other until they joined with the human's own nervous system. It was an absolute marvel in terms of human achievement. And Knockout longed to slice every little bit of it.

"I wish to see how much pain these nerves can actually register," He said, letting the long, sharp fingers trace the wires, "How much you can take."

The red medic motioned for a vechicon to bring forth the surgical trays. The sounds of human struggle filled the med bay as the trays rolled into view. Scalpels, saws, hooks, sliding hammers, shears, nibblers, plasma cutters…every instrument in every size for every use were arranged neatly on the trays, ready for their owner's ill intent. It was rare for the medic to bring out all his goodies, sparing them for only the most delicate and bloody of procedures, special occasions really. And this was defiantly a very special occasion.

"Perfect. Now where shall we start?" Knockout's fingers hovered playfully over the tools of torture. His smile reflected beautifully on the cold, cruel, blades.

The vechicons watched, intrigued by the medic's unusual glee. Knockout was no saint. He was arrogant, selfish, vain and far from compassionate. But this mix of happiness and cruelty was new, and once seen on Knockout's face could not be easily forgotten. They were transfixed on the medic's movements, observing how his fingers would dance over the instruments, wondering which one he would enjoy first.

"Cybertronians have very sensitive points where major circuits and energon lines intersect. I wonder what will happen if I cut them?" Knockout said. He picked up a simple scalpel, tiny, sharp, and perfectly curved for tearing into the smallest seems.

"Would you bleed that foul red substance of humans?" Knockout turned to face the bound prisoner. The med berth was modified, larger to accommodate the space needed for his study.

"Or would you bleed out energon?" The medic walked closer to Silas, his sway strangely seductive and playful even as he fiddled with the scalpel, "I would love to know."

The light above Silas moved, casting a blinding beam upon the broken face. Knockout leaned in, his red-yellow optics burning with hunger and hate.

"Get that fucking thing away from me!" Silas cursed madly, thrashing and fighting against the bonds securing him to the berth.

It eased Knockout to know that the screams weren't that of Breakdown's, that it wasn't his friend who was suffering. And it excited him to think of ways to keep that sweet, gratifying sound playing.

"Hush now. We haven't even started." Knockout smiled, the movement so slow and sweet. The sight would have comforted Breakdown, it always did. The faithful assistant often told him so, when there was no one else to hear those words or see that smile but them.

"Don't worry. I promise it'll only get better," The sight of that smile now chilled the room, the strange beauty of the gesture barely masking the anger and pain behind it. The scalpel crumpled like paper in his fingers, breaking and falling to the floor from the sheer strength that overcame him.

The vechicons shifted towards the shadows as Knockout's voice cracked, the sound a string of broken laughs.

Silas tried to twist out of the binds, the struggle only adding to his injuries. The shadow of the medic loomed over him, that wicked smile as sweet as ever.

"If Breakdown could see this, he would never stop thanking me. And speaking of sight…" Knockout said as he reached into the tray, "Let me start by studying yours…"

Day 2

Silas groaned, his massive body heaving to get fresh air to cool his burning systems. The medic had stopped early the previous day to attend to an emergency. The wait for the medic's return was torture on its own. The moment the medic returned and shut off the med bay entrance, the same wild gleam was present in his smile and soon Silas braced himself as a sharp clip nicked his one functioning optic.

"How does it connect? Take in the light to format images?" Knockout wondered aloud, "Would your human eyes still see me if I tried to remove this? Oh questions, questions, questions…"

Knockout placed the instrument down and entered figures on a data pad.

"You know, I was thinking it'll be best to save your sight for later. So you can have the pleasure of seeing how much is left of you when I'm through."

"Like fuck you are, you piece of shit."

"Then the vocalizer after that," Knockout ignored his captive's curses, knowing full well that the sound would either be silenced or morphed into screaming, "Or maybe the vocalizer should be last. I would like to hear your screams for as long as I can. If you really think about it, Cylas, it's a small exchange for what you took from me."

Knockout waved for a vechicon to take the data pad. The medic strutted over to a control panel by the berth and with a click of his fingers the berth began to rise. Silas gasped in shock and pain as the berth rose and tilted forward, forcing him to a standing position with no real way to support his weight. His frame trembled and heaved heavily, struggling to cool down his frantic systems.

"But first my dear, let me see about these inner workings," Knockout's arm transformed, in its place a saw.

"What are you doing? Oh god, no…No!" Silas was begging now.

It was odd how quickly humans could flip their emotions and desires, their defiance wavering so delicately.

"You didn't grant Breakdown the privilege of stasis or even sedatives when you gutted him," Knockout said, the words as cutting as the saw he wielded, "And for his sake, I will not spare you the luxury!"

And with those words, the saw bit and sliced through the abdominal armor.

Sparks danced, flying as the saw did its wicked work. Knockout's expert hands became rougher, less careful as the human's cries filled the room. With a twist of the saw, a gush of fluid broke out from the abdominal cavity. A nasty tangle of wires, circuits, and gears spilled forth, coating Knockout in a sick mess of blue and red.

Silas' insane screams were distant to Knockout, the medic's focus transfixed by the mix of blood and energon all over him.

"So there's both," Knockout said, observing the mixture on his fingers, "Interesting indeed."

The medic continued to twist and turn his saw, nearly cleaving the hybrid body's chest and abdominal area into two. With his priers and shears he cut, bent, and broke away metal until he found the parasite within. The bag of flesh was trembling; his face bruised, ugly and soaked with energon and blood.

Knockout couldn't stop himself from withdrawing, pausing and storing the image into his memory banks. It was a sight too beautiful to forget.

Day 3

"Get out,"

"But sir—"

"Get out!"

Knockout kicked the surgical trays away, slamming them into the vechicons who couldn't move fast enough.

"Get out and do not enter unless you want your spark chambers welded to the scrap pile. Get out!"

The medic swung his electric saw at them, sending them running through the med bay doors. The doors snapped shut as the last one flew out. Knockout's smile was long gone. His study of the human had started off so wonderfully. But it seemed like the flesh bag had a few games of his own. He couldn't physically retaliate of course, but he found a far more damaging method to hurt the medic. A method not even the Decepticon could have expected.

"Slut,"

Knockout's optics burned as Silas laughed, his mechanical body pried open, armor peeled back and pinned. The medic knew that word, knew what it entailed and the insult the human meant. He didn't deny it.

"He was right," Silas said, sobs of pain turning into crackling laughter, "You never could resist him."

Knockout grabbed a drill and smashed it right beside the human's head.

"How dare you!" Knockout pulled out the drill and started to wail it down around his captive, enraged by what he discovered. It wasn't the insult that filled him with fury, but the fact that this pathetic parasite knew…he knew!

And Knockout, for all his knowledge couldn't figure out how the human was able to access pieces of Breakdown's memories. It must have been a trick, some desperate ploy the human was using to find a way to torment him. And it worked flawlessly. It started off with simple phrases his assistant would often use, and then the human began to speak of locations in Cybertron, of their missions together, of…of things that were known to no one else but them. And the more intimate the memories were, the more furious and uncontrollable Knockout became.

"I see it." Silas choked out as blood oozed from his mouth, "Your damn face. Every time—"

Knockout screamed, throwing the drill away. He leaned down, so incredibly close to the bleeding human. How he wanted to just crush the talking corpse right then, just dig his claws in and squeeze all the red from his body…

"When I try to sleep. Your face shows up. Your world shows up." Silas continued, his eyes glassy and distant, "Goddamn fucked up world. Nothing but ruins, smoke, fire. You."

Knockout drew back. He wanted to end this torture, both of theirs. He should kill him on the spot. But part of him wanted to hear more. A part of Breakdown, even if it was corrupted, still survived in this human's dreams.

"Did you see how he killed?" Knockout said, trying to sound cynical and unfeeling, even though his movements said otherwise, "Did you see how the Decepticon army destroyed the Autobot stronghold?"

Silas shook his head

"I see black clouds. Melted bodies and cities. Sometimes I see crystals."

For an instant, Knockout's spark stopped beating.

"Crystals of every fucking color. All over. Beautiful. Like a garden." Silas said, "There was another one of your kind there, waiting for him, smiling. It's you isn't it?"

The moments of dead silence provided his answer.

"Was it love at first sight?" Silas said, his voice mocking and disgusted, "Did he have to court you like proper gentleman would a girl? Did he fuck you over like one to?"

"Do not speak his memories. You have no place!" Knockout trembled, "They aren't yours!"

"Were you his?" Silas laughed as Knockout's frame quivered, shocked and violated by those simple words.

The violation of Breakdown's memories—their memories—was too much for him to stomach. His insides felt every bit as twisted and wrecked as his prisoner's. His spark was bright and blazing, painfully alive and aware of his loss.

"He liked to think so."

Knockout shook his head as if it would keep his processors from taking in those words. Wordlessly, the medic rushed out of the med bay, his frame still covered in blood and energon, his strides leaving a gleaming trail beneath him. The human wailed and laughed, mimicking grotesque noises as the humiliated Con pushed the vechicons from his path. Before the med bay doors slid shut the human's crazed shouts struck out.

"Last thoughts before dying was of you, you whore! Slut! Slut! In the gardens, in the med bay, in the pit. Slut! Slut!"

Day 4

"You never said those words to him," Silas whispered, his voice dry and coarse, "Does it grieve you to know that he—he wanted to hear them so badly? That he meant them when he said them to you?"

Above him, the sound of a plasma cutter sliced the air. The mech-human hybrid didn't even struggle as the instrument descended, splitting his vocalizer into useless pieces.

The mute prisoner looked up with hazy eyes, amazed by the image above him, the sight beautiful to behold. For all that Knockout learned during their time together, Silas discovered something too. Cybertronians, even Decepticons, were capable of producing something akin to tears.

Day 5

"Our study on the subject is complete,"

Knockout smiled. His fingers were careful and deadly as they traced the human flesh. He could feel the body rise and fall, the motion of ragged breath, the patterns of imminent death…

"Before I end your miserable existence, I want you to know—"

The flesh bag arched, eye's wide with horror as the metal fingers pierced through skin and muscle and bone.

"Kaon. It was in Kaon,"

The human twitched, blood spilling from his mouth and wounds as those metal fingers crushed his heart.

"In the gladiator pits, being bartered like a whore," Knockout said simply, fascinated by how so much blood could be contained in such small a being, "That's where he first saw me."

The medic was unaware what happened soon after, the memory of it blacked out. What Soundwave's video recording revealed though, was the medic smashing the human with a hammer til he was just a puddle of blood and gore.

Day 6

Knockout worked alone, the days melting together. He demanded to proceed without help in cleaning the bay. The pieces of Silas, what little could be found, were quickly scraped out. The mix of blood and energon was swept, the berth drained of the foul substance. He didn't know what else to do afterwards. He knew they couldn't give Breakdown a proper burial, there was simply no time to. A part of him suspected that Megatron would just order the salvageable parts to be kept for later use, while the broken pieces would be thrown out like garbage. The thought made him sick.

The medic stood beside the corpse, now free of the parasite that desecrated it. He had a wash cloth in his servos, gently cleaning the armor. He didn't know the price, but he decided that he would ask Megatron for Breakdown's body. He would beg if necessary. He just needed to be certain that no one would abuse Breakdown again.

"You always did appreciate beautiful things," Knockout said, "Did the parasite know that?"

The red medic became still, his optics dimming.

"I remember when we first met," He smiled though the memory pained him even now, "Before I was called Knockout."

Cybertron was never a lovely place, even in the so-called golden age. More than once, the unfair practices of the caste system left helpless mechs with little choice, Knockout among them. He was placed so far down the system he was forgotten, tossed into the pit not to be a gladiator but to be exactly what Silas accused him of.

Soldiers, gladiators, slaves, lords, councilmen, Knockout went through so many, each of them calling him a different name. He refused once, just one. The act got him tossed into the gladiator holding cells as punishment.

His frame hitched at the memory. There was a wrecker there that day, working on fixing the gates for the stadium. The mech watched with pity and regret as the pleasure bot was dragged from one cell to the next. When his punishment was over, Knockout was bleeding profusely from his injuries, reduced to a quivering mess so scarred and filthy not even the worst-looking gladiators wanted him.

And then he noticed the wrecker, ready to leave from mending the gates. The mech was staring at him, but Knockout just closed his optics and hid away, praying to whatever blasted deity to spare him from another violation. When he opened his optics again there was a full bottle of energon in front of him, a small wash cloth, and cleaning solvent. They were simple things. But to Knockout that small act of kindness stayed buried in his processor.

It would be many vorns later, after he managed to scheme and bribe his way into a medic academy, that he would see the wrecker again. They met once more in the Crystal Gardens, the wrecker repairing the walls while the pleasure bot turned medic student awaited for a client. The wrecker didn't recognize him. Knockout had a completely different frame, a different name. The red beauty never wanted a trace of his old life attached to him. He couldn't bear being scratched, scarred, and ugly. He'd endured it for long enough.

"I'm sorry I never told you," Knockout said. He carefully cleansed Breakdown's hand, recalling how strong and gentle they could be, "I didn't want you to think of me like that…ugly…unwanted…"

Knockout soaked the washcloth, the quiet trickling of water breaking the empty silence.

"I only wanted you to think of me as beautiful, nothing less." Knockout smiled. He continued to remove the scant amounts of dried energon from Breakdown's fingers. "You taught me to appreciate beauty, to find it in the most wretched circumstances."

The medic leaned forward, gently touching the hollow where Breakdown's optic should have been.

"You taught me well. I see it even now,"

Day 7

Knockout washed the grime from his red armor, frowning at the scrapes and scratches upon the plating. The imperfections mocked him, reminding him too much of his days spent as a no-class pleasure bot. The medic sneered, fantasizing about ripping off his own plating to install new ones, flawless ones.

"You shouldn't have indulged me so much you know," Knockout said, "I got so used to you spoiling me to no end it was shocking to be…to be without it."

He had worked continually through the night restoring Breakdown's body. The care and diligence he spent on the task was taking a toll on his health. He barely even drank energon to sustain himself, the very slight of the substance turning his tanks. Recharge was far from his processor, even though his frame ached from constant movement. His optics were dry but still vibrant and vigilant as he turned to work on Breakdown again.

He removed the broken circuits and wires and repaired the inner frame, carefully piecing the corpse back together.

"Do you remember how hideous the pits were? Almost as bleak and suffocating as this Primus-forsaken ship." Knockout said, "And this damned planet. I don't understand what those Autobots see in it. The place is crawling with organics, and there are so many environmental variations and unpredictable weather patterns. I can't see how anyone would want to spend their life here. I'd rather be back in Cybertron, as dead as it is."

Knockout welded the armor back in place.

"You were so determined to go back into construction if we ever returned. You would have made incredible structures, rebuilt our old home. No," The medic smiled, "You would have made it so much grander."

If life as a Decepticon was harsh, being in direct contact with Lord Megatron made it down right brutal. The strict rules, penalties, and lack of recognition could drive a mech mad. Starscream was proof of that. But Knockout had Breakdown. He might have appeared a brute, but Breakdown truly did indulge Knockout. He did the work that was too heavy or demanding for the medic. He even buffered and polished the medic when time and resources could be spared. And now that Breakdown was gone, Knockout felt the toll of being in Megatron's immediate proximity near unbearable.

"No matter how tired you were, you always made time for me." The medic laughed, "I was so demanding. I don't know how you could tolerate it. But you didn't disappoint. Not in anything."

Knockout felt his systems closing down. He immediately took a seat beside Breakdown's berth, unable to put off recharge from occurring any longer. He touched Breakdown's face, amazed by how calm it appeared.

It took many years for Knockout to accept him as a lover. And although Breakdown wasn't the first to have him, he was the first and only one who truly loved him. Knockout felt it whenever they joined together. The knowledge of it filled him whenever Breakdown made him laugh and cry as their sparks twisted and merged into a single entity.

He wasn't ugly or broken when Breakdown filled him. Even when he tried to convince himself that he was still filthy, he simply couldn't feel it when Breakdown was within him. Never. For how could he feel like trash when his love treated him so wondrously, so beautifully.

"And I never said what you deserved to hear," Knockout whispered as recharge took over him, his fingers slipping from Breakdown's.

Day 8

Knockout analyzed his findings, comparing the images taken of Breakdown's body before and after the removal of Silas. He noted the weld marks, knowing how Breakdown was torn apart and refashioned as a host for the human experiment. Judging by the extent of the repairs the humans did, Airachnid's dispatch of Breakdown was fast and brutal.

"I won't grant her the same courtesy," The medic said, "Unlike my fondness for racing, I like to take these things slow and steady. You know that don't you Breakdown?"

The silence was driving him mad. Knockout shook his helm, his optics wide and hazy. The long days and nights of speaking to no one was pushing him further from logic. And still…still a part of him knew that it was all for nothing. No matter how much he repaired, restored, and polished him, Breakdown was just as dead as when Airachnid extinguished his spark.

"I wasn't fazed when I heard you died," Knockout said, his smile was breaking, "I heard it so many times before. You always came back to me. Like when you were captured in Crystal City, and when you left the Wreckers, and when you fought the sentries of Iacon. It was just another one of those times for me. You would come back. I knew you would. But this time it wasn't you."

In his wrecked mind, the empty silence was louder than any scream.

"You were supposed to come back!"

Knockout leaned over, cupping Breakdown's helm with his trembling servos. It relieved him when Breakdown's signal reappeared a few days ago. To him it was a sign that his worries were nothing at all, that his lover returned as he always did. All his sufferings in Cybertron could not match the horror of finding a human abomination in control of the body that held and loved him. Silas was nothing like Breakdown, the differences between the two so stark Knockout wanted to gut him open the instant he could.

As Knockout cried he felt the world, the factions, everything else beyond the berth disappear. His senses focused on the corpse before him. Corspe. Gone. No more. Never more.

The truth ached deep, filling him with fear and hate.

Day 9

They could not close the med bay forever. Knockout was a physician, not some grief-stricken sparkmate who refused to leave his mate's side. He had duties to attend to, a faction to serve. The living needed him not the dead.

Those were the messages he received. Those were the messages he ignored, at least for a little while longer.

The earth outside was sleeping, the night young and heavy with rain. Within the medbay, Knockout dimmed the lights. With delicate grace and purpose he polished his red armor, making it nothing less than flawless. He was radiant tonight, breathtaking to Cybertronian eyes. His optics smoldered.

Like one well-versed in pleasure he climbed onto the med berth, his frame curving seductively with each movement. He embraced the massive body, resting his helm against the cold, empty chest.

"I dream about you," Knockout whispered, leaning up to caress his beloved's face, "I didn't think I was capable of that until now. It helps ease the pain."

The red medic stroked Breakdown's helm, recalling how that particular touch made the bigger mech yearn for him even more. He smiled as the images replayed in his mind.

"You know what else I dream of?" Knockout said, sliding his fingers along the seams of Breakdown's chest plates, "I dream of Airachnid. I kill her in my dreams a hundred times for every time I see your face or recall the heat of your spark…"

Knockout leaned back down, hiding himself against Breakdown's massive build.

"Maybe this is just a dream," The medic said, "I'll awake. You'll be there. You'll laugh. You'll tell me I'm a fool."

And in the eerie quiet of the medbay, the fading light shining upon them, it was easy to imagine that Breakdown was merely asleep. He appeared so peaceful, so calm, yet ready to awaken at Knockout's bidding.

The medic stayed that way for hours, simply staring at the beautiful peacefulness on Breakdown's face. Only the coldness reminded him of the truth. When he finally sat up he kissed the lips that once spoke the sweetest words to him.

"I won't let them take you," Knockout whispered as he kissed him again, "And turn you into something for their own use. I won't let anyone use you again. You're mine."

The final kiss lingered, as if Knockout could breathe life back into him.

"Til all are one,"

His words vanished, his unceasing sobs and screams shattering the silence.

Present

Of all the things created, both good and bad, this was a masterpiece fit for a Prime. But it would be his alone.

Knockout held his new weapon to the light, the metal heavy yet humming with energy.

"Magnificent," The medic said, his optics transfixed on the spear he held in his hands. The newly fashioned device was longer and sturdier than usual his energon prod. The red and blue colors stood brightly against the black metal. The flow of electricity and energon tingled beneath Knockout's fingers.

The price was indeed high, but after bargaining and begging the Decepticon warlord granted the medic's request. Somewhat.

"See how brilliant it is?" Knockout said, a surge of pride enveloping him.

He spun the spear once, activating it with a code he alone knew. The spear transformed mid-spin, shifting and twisting into a deadly hammer. A single strike yielded the force to crush a boulder to dust.

"Marvelous!"

With the Forge of Solace Prime under Decepticon control, Megatron was obsessed with making all sorts of bizarre creations. Knockout found it wasn't too difficult to convince the warlord of anything when he was in a triumphant mood. The request was fair enough, given all that the medic had done for their cause. He brought out Breakdown's spark chamber to the Forge and asked his master to create a weapon worthy of the mech's memory. To his complete joy, Megatron granted the request.

It was a marvelous mix of their favorite weapons. Knockout's energon prod and Breakdown's hammer. Only this one was far more deadly and beautiful together…

"It's perfect Breakdown! A hammer to crush whatever rock Airachnid is hiding under, and a spear to take her spark and mount her head."

He smiled, enjoying the fabricated revenge in his processor, imaging Breakdown's mighty hands lifting him up. He felt so high, so strong and fearsome.

"Yes. It would, wouldn't it Breakdown? Imagine her horror, the light extinguishing from her terror-stricken eyes," Knockout laughed, his happiness maddening, "Yes, yes! It would be a very beautiful thing indeed."

The End


End file.
